Raney studied her friend through the diner window. How many more times would they get together before they slowly drifted apart? It was already happening, Bertie heading in one direction, building a new life in Fort Worth, while Raney stayed planted in the same place she’d been her whole life.
Bertie had a guy now. Marriage would be next, then kids. A few high school reunions, and those chatty, once-a-year newsletters inside a Christmas card, then even those would eventually stop. It was inevitable. Raney had seen it happen to Mama and to a lesser degree to her sisters—except for Joss, who collected and discarded people like shoe store coupons.
She could already feel it happening to her and Bertie.
But not today. Resolved, Raney grabbed her purse, opened the truck door, and hopped out. Today, she would enjoy her friend while she could. And maybe a piece of Mellie’s coconut cream pie.
They picked up where they’d left off a week ago, when Bertie had first come into town to help her mother after her hip replacement. Mom was doing well, Bertie loved her job and her new apartment, Fort Worth was amazing, the clinic was awesome, and Phil was the perfect guy.
Pretty much the same things she’d said last week.
Raney mostly just listened. Her life hadn’t changed much since Bertie’s visit six months ago. And the visit before that. Except that now Mama was having a menopausal crisis and was about to run off to parts unknown, and Joss was pregnant and fixing to move back in to make Raney’s life miserable, and they were selling off most of their cattle so they could focus on breeding championship quarter horses, and—oh, yeah, and they had an ex-con working for them who’d accidentally killed a guy. Nothing Raney really wanted to talk about, so she just sat there and nodded and smiled. Which was fine with her.
Until her cell phone chimed.
Unknown caller, the screen read. She was about to press DECLINE when she saw it was a local number. Probably spam. But maybe not. She accepted and immediately said, “If this is a solicitation—”
“Don’t hang up, Raney. It’s me.” Dalton Cardwell.
Surprised, it took her a moment to respond. “How’d you get my cell number?” Not her friendliest greeting.
“Hicks. I hope that’s okay. I wanted to tell you I’d be gone for a couple of days to help my folks move.”
“Glenn already told me. I’m surprised you didn’t mention it last night.”
“My folks didn’t reach me until after ten. Figured it was too late to call.”
“Oh, well . . . thanks for telling me.” Twelve hours late.
There was a pause. Raney was about to end the call when he said, “I also wanted to talk to you about last night. About what happened on the porch.”
“I already apologized for that.” She was starting to lose patience.
“What?”
“I shouldn’t have dumped all that stuff about my father on you, Dalton. It was inappropriate. Old history, anyway.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m glad you told me.”
“Glad? Why?”
“It shows trust. That you were comfortable enough with me to talk about it. But that’s not what I was talking about.”
“Then what?”
“I wanted to apologize for what I did.”
Realizing where this was headed, Raney decided to exact a little payback. For what, she wasn’t sure. “Refresh my memory. What did you do?”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” She could picture him smiling as he said it. She heard it in his voice.
It made her smile, too. “Say what?”
This time he chuckled. Low and intimate and totally masculine. “Okay. I’ll say it. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It wasn’t a good idea.”
Raney waited a beat to keep the laughter out of her own voice. “You kissed me? When?”
They both laughed then, and she stopped being mad at him.
“Can’t blame you for forgetting. It wasn’t that great of a first kiss.”
“First? That implies there’ll be more. Didn’t you just say it wasn’t a good idea?”
“I did. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be a repeat.”
“You’re dreaming again, cowboy.”
“Am I? Maybe. Gotta go. Got a hundred years of crap to unload. See you Wednesday.”
Still smiling, Raney ended the call, then looked up to see Bertie gaping at her. “What?”
“Oh my God! Raney Whitcomb, you were flirting!”
“No, I wasn’t.” Raney took her time putting her phone away, hoping the heat in her face would fade.
“I’ve never seen you flirt!”
“Not so loud. And I’ve flirted plenty of times.”
“When?”
“Oh, please.”
“You called him Dalton. Who—” Bertie’s hazel eyes went even wider. “It was Beanpole, wasn’t it? Dalton whatshisname—Cardwell!”
Raney looked around, grateful the place was empty except for the waitress, who was frowning in their direction. Suzanne—Suze—Anderson, a girl she remembered from her teen years, but from a different school. “You’re shouting again.”
Bertie leaned forward and dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “Isn’t he the one who had that wreck that killed—”
“Jim Bob Adkins. The commissioner’s nephew. It was an accident.” Raney was getting tired of talking about Jim Bob, his drinking problems, the wreck, whose fault it was. And Dalton Cardwell.
Bertie wasn’t. “If it was an accident, why did they send him to jail?”
“Because he confessed and waived a trial. If he hadn’t, he probably would have gotten off.” Seeing Suze heading over to take their orders, Raney opened her menu. “You know what you want yet?”
They ordered their usual. Chicken salad, light on the mayo, avocado on the side, and iced tea. Raney thought the subject of Dalton Cardwell had been dropped, but as soon as Suze left, Bertie leaned forward again. “What about Karla?”
“Who?” The name sounded familiar, but Raney didn’t know from where. Then she remembered the redhead she’d seen with Dalton a couple of times before he went to Huntsville. “Karla Jenkins? What about her?”
“She and Cardwell were dating before . . .” Bertie glanced over to see Suze eyeing them again. “You know.”
“They’re not now.
